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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301801">under cover of darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilljustbitten/pseuds/stilljustbitten'>stilljustbitten</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Andrés with fangs, Criminals in costumes, Eventual Smut, Halloween!Berlermo, Jealous Andrés, M/M, Pining, What else is new, jealous Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:21:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilljustbitten/pseuds/stilljustbitten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The sight of him almost causes Martín to stop breathing. He looks ridiculously sexy with his vampire cape, black shirt, red vest, and pants. Tight black pants. The glow from the street lights nearby reflects on his fangs. Not the cheap ones made of plastic. No, of course Andrés bought actual porcelain fangs that had to be glued to his own teeth. The sight of them makes Martín wonder how it feels when they dig into his skin, and he almost forgets how cold he is. Almost."</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Two dressed up idiots making each other jealous at a fancy-ass Halloween party, while trying to complete their mission. <br/>One of them ends up bent over the hood of a car.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>under cover of darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Halloween!</p>
<p>This is my first attempt at writing something with an actual plot. It wasn't easy, but I had fun. </p>
<p>Let me know what you think, please and thank you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We couldn’t have parked the car a little closer to the damn house?” Martín asks. “I’ll freeze my ass off.” </p>
<p>Andrés sighs. “The parking lot is pretty crowded. Besides, it’s not that far, and you <i>could</i> have just brought a jacket.” </p>
<p>“This costume didn’t come with a jacket. That’s the price you pay for looking sexy.” </p>
<p>Martín looks down at his police costume. Maybe he should have brought a jacket with him, considering the short sleeves, but he will never admit that to Andrés. He steps out of the car, immediately tempted to go back in because it really is freezing. Since they’re almost parked in a forest, or at least among some trees, it’s also pretty dark.<br/>He crosses his arms over his chest, feeling the goosebumps on his skin. Every puff of his breath forms a white cloud in the cool air. </p>
<p>Andrés gets out too, and the sight of him once again causes Martín to stop breathing. He looks ridiculously sexy with his vampire cape, black shirt, red vest, and pants. Tight black pants. The glow from the street lights nearby reflects on his fangs. Not the cheap ones made of plastic. No, of course Andrés bought actual porcelain fangs that had to be glued to his own teeth. The sight of them makes Martín wonder how it feels when they dig into his skin, and he almost forgets how cold he is. Almost. He shakes his head to clear his mind.</p>
<p>Of course Andrés catches him staring, and looks quite satisfied with himself.</p>
<p>“Do you like my costume?” he asks in a taunting voice.</p>
<p>Martín rolls his eyes. There’s no need to pretend otherwise, with the amount of staring he has done since he saw it for the first time at home.</p>
<p>“You know I do,” he answers, looking away. </p>
<p>Andrés stands in front of him, tilting his police hat a little and rearranges a strand of his hair.</p>
<p>“You don’t look bad yourself, officer. Now let’s go inside and have something to drink.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Standing inside the house, Martín almost wants to turn around and walk back out. He would probably have done it if it wasn’t so damn cold outside. When he agreed to go to the party, he apparently forgot what kind people Andrés’ friends were. The house is huge, everything is so fancy, and everyone is dressed in spectacular costumes. Everyone but him. He is hit with a familiar feeling of not belonging. </p>
<p>Andrés squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, and Martín tries to shrug off the feeling by focusing on the single best thing about these fancy-ass parties: the unlimited amount of expensive drinks you can have for free. He follows Andrés to the room where the bar is located.</p>
<p>After getting their drinks, they retreat to a table, where they have a good view over the crowd of people. </p>
<p>“Isn’t it beautiful, Martín? Look at all these people, hiding behind their costumes and masks, pretending to be what they are not. This is true art.” He glances over the crowd, visibly mesmerized. Martín just looks at him.</p>
<p>“Sure,” he answers, and the tone in his voice makes Andrés look at him, frowning, while he tries to decipher Martín’s expression.</p>
<p>“You don’t feel comfortable?” he tries. </p>
<p>Martín almost blushes, because he has been so obvious, because Andrés knows him so well. He shrugs, looking down at his drink. Suddenly he feels stupid for thinking that way.</p>
<p>Andrés’ hand on the back of his neck makes him look back up. The expression on his face is sincere when he says:</p>
<p>“These people might have a lot of money, but I assure you, most of them are hollow inside. You have the most brilliant mind in this room, you could easily outsmart anyone of them.”</p>
<p>He leans in and places a kiss on Martín’s forehead.</p>
<p>“Also”— Andrés’ eyes dart down Martín’s body —”not a single one of them is as sexy as you”. </p>
<p>He winks, and Martín feels the heat on his cheeks. He forces a laugh, but the effect of Andrés’ words is immediate, and he raises his chin just a little.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long before Andrés is dragged away by some woman he apparently knows. Martín knows this is bound to happen, but he hates it nonetheless. Normally he wouldn’t care about being left alone, after all, he’s not a shy person. But among these people— he doesn’t even know how to act. </p>
<p>He decides to just remain at the table, enjoy his drink, and look around. After all, it’s easy pretending that he’s just watching some kind of show. He sees princesses, mummies, zombies, pumpkins and nuns. It’s obvious that none of their costumes are store-bought - like his is - they’re probably all specially crafted. </p>
<p>“How do you know Lucille?”</p>
<p>He looks up at some guy dressed as The Joker, who has appeared in front of him.</p>
<p>“Uh— I don’t,” he shrugs. “I’m here with someone.”</p>
<p>The Joker looks around. “Who’s the lucky lady?”</p>
<p>“Not a lady. I don’t know where he is.” He looks around, too, unable to spot Andrés in the crowd.</p>
<p>“Great, I just love being dragged to parties and left alone among people I don’t know,” The Joker says, and Martín meets his eyes. He feels his own mouth curl up into a smile.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s wonderful, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Definitely. Anyway, my name’s Jared. I’ve worked with Lucille. She’s the one over there, by the way,” he says, pointing her out. </p>
<p>Jared turns out to be pleasant company and most importantly, he makes Martín forget about not fitting in. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the middle of their conversation, Andrés shows up.</p>
<p>“Martín.” His eyes dart between him and Jared. “I see you’ve found yourself a friend.” He sticks his hand out to greet Jared, who looks downright intimidated, but shakes his hand.</p>
<p>“Jared.”</p>
<p>Andrés offers him a nod, before he turns to Martín, eyes wide and sparkling. “You have to come see this,” he says, quietly enough for only Martín to hear. </p>
<p>“Talk to you later,” he manages to say to Jared before following Andrés upstairs.</p>
<p>Reaching the top of the stairs, Andrés looks around cautiously. When he has made sure that nobody is watching, he turns Martín towards a half-open door, placing both of his hands on his shoulders.</p>
<p>“Look,” he whispers.</p>
<p>Martín looks inside the bedroom, and it only takes his eyes a second to spot the object that Andrés is talking about. <i>The Cradle with Garlands</i>. Martín only knows because Andrés has mentioned that exact Fabergé Egg about a million times through the years they have known each other. Nevertheless the sight sends a shiver down his back, simply because he knows just how much it means to Andrés.</p>
<p>He turns his head to him, and sees his eyes glistening.</p>
<p>“You mean we have to…?” </p>
<p>Andrés raises his eyebrows. “Definitely.”</p>
<p>“But it’s— in her bedroom.” Martín can already feel his mind working on a solution.</p>
<p>Andrés tilts his head, winking. “I know my way around the ladies, right? But I’m going to need a little help from your brilliant mind.” </p>
<p>They go downstairs to order another drink and find a quiet place where they can discuss the matter without looking suspicious, and without the other guests being able to hear them. </p>
<p>“We’ll have to wait a bit, until everyone is too drunk to care. Let’s say in an hour. That should be enough time for me to seduce Lucille.”</p>
<p>Martín rolls his eyes at Andrés’ smugness, but he can’t hide his smile. This is exciting, and his whole body tingles.</p>
<p>“When we end up in her bedroom - which of course we will, eventually - you’ll have to come and disturb us.”</p>
<p>Martín nods eagerly, trying hard not to picture whatever sight will meet him when he barges into the bedroom.</p>
<p>“Then I’ll use her confusion to grab it and excuse myself for whatever important matter you come up with.” </p>
<p>Andrés’ eyes are vivid, his finger curling around Martín’s lower arm. For a short time they just stay there, grinning like idiots, Martín enjoying the way Andrés always touches him when he’s excited. Then a woman’s voice call’s Andrés’ name. </p>
<p>“Guess I’ll go work on our plan then. See you in an hour,” he whispers secretly to Martín before disappearing once again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Martín decides that he’ll need a fair amount of alcohol if he has to stick around and watch Andrés seducing that lady. He eagerly downs his whisky and gets another one. Just in time to see Andrés return with Lucille, heading for the dance floor. <i>Lucille</i>. Wearing the shortest dress he has ever seen. He doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to be dressed like. </p>
<p>When a decent song starts playing, he heads to the dancefloor himself. </p>
<p>Luckily he succeeds in forgetting about everything for a while, lost in the music, among all the people he no longer cares about. He ends up dancing with a witch who really knows how to move. At some point, he’s exhausted enough to need a break so he leans against a wall and unbuttons his shirt a bit. At this point, when he feels a drop of sweat trickling down his neck, he’s happy that he chose a costume with short sleeves after all. He leans his head back, and his eyes immediately land on Andrés, standing across the room. His gaze is transfixed somewhere on Martín’s body. Martín nervously looks down, afraid that he spilled something on himself, and when he looks back up he meets Andrés’ eyes. Just in time to spot the lopsided smile on his face before he turns his focus back to Lucille. </p>
<p>Judging by the way she’s looking at him and giggling at his every word, he seems to have made some progress with his plan. Martín fights the urge to actually roll his eyes. He wants to look away, but it’s like his gaze is impossible to drag away from Andrés. His elegant fingers caress her arm, while he whispers something in her ear, and— </p>
<p>“You look like you could need a drink.”</p>
<p>Martín startles visibly when The Joker appears with another whisky. <i>Jared</i>. He accepts the glass offered to him.</p>
<p>“I thought you were with him,” Jared says, questioning.</p>
<p>“No,” Martín answers flatly, taking a sip of his drink. </p>
<p>“Good. I mean”— Jared makes a gesture towards Andrés and Lucille —”because he’s obviously into women.” </p>
<p>“He really is.” </p>
<p>Martín still can’t stop watching as Andrés’ hand slides down Lucille’s back, and further down, while he flashes his fangs at her. He becomes aware that he clenches his jaw, forcing himself to exhale and look away, and tries to drown the bubbling feeling of jealousy with the rest of his drink.</p>
<p>“So,” Jared begins, eyeing him cautiously, and Martín knows just how obvious he has been, “is he—”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” Martín cuts him off, shaking his head, a warning look in his eyes. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Jared says, looking like he really means it.</p>
<p>Martín sighs. This isn’t Jared’s fault, after all. </p>
<p>“I don’t really want to talk about it. Do you like dancing?”</p>
<p>He can definitely feel the whisky burning in his body when they head for the dance floor, and he welcomes the feeling. It makes him able to actually enjoy the dancing, and he doesn’t care about the people sending him looks or raising their eyebrows. </p>
<p>Jared is a decent dancer, and he is handsome. He’s handsome with his fitted purple suit, his greenish hair, and the face paint that’s starting to come off because dancing makes him sweaty. Martín runs his fingers over Jared’s cheek and grins when they leave a mark. He grins when Jared grabs his wrist and drags him close, so close that their noses almost touch. <i>Hell yeah</i>. He’s allowed to have some fun too, he doesn’t have to stand around and wait, watching Andrés’ hands all over some woman, knowing that he’ll eventually bury his cock inside her. </p>
<p>He grabs the purple fabric of Jared’s suit and crashes his lips against his. They kiss hungrily for a while, and the wetness of Jared’s mouth makes every unpleasant thought leave Martín’s head. When they break their kiss to get some air, he meets Andrés’ eyes over Jared’s shoulder. Andrés sends him a pointed look, just before Martín’s eyes flutter shut when he feels Jared’s lips on his neck. He tries to focus on dancing, not to make their heated make-out session too obvious, but it’s hard when Jared touches him like <i>that</i>. </p>
<p>He only lasts a couple of minutes before he says:</p>
<p>“Let’s go upstairs.”</p>
<p>Jared doesn’t respond, but he obediently follows Martín, who, once they’re upstairs, pushes him against the wall in the first unlocked room, closing the door with his foot. He presses his body against Jared’s, who moans loudly and captures Martín’s mouth in another kiss. When he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that it’s Andrés. </p>
<p>Soon after he feels Andrés’ hand — Jared’s hand — down his pants, his fingers wrapped tightly around his cock. <i>Fuck yes</i>. </p>
<p>“Martín!”</p>
<p>Something in the back of his head warns him, tells him that he should be alarmed by the voice, but shit, this feels good— </p>
<p>Suddenly the hand is gone, and Martín feels himself being dragged away from Jared by— Andrés.</p>
<p>“What the fuck are you doing, can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?” Martín gestures vaguely towards Jared, who mostly looks like a deer caught in headlights. Martín giggles at his expression.</p>
<p>“I see that very clearly,” Andrés spits, and when he has made sure that Jared can’t hear him, he adds: “You couldn’t keep it in your pants until we finished our mission?”</p>
<p>“First of all”— he points a finger at Andrés —“it was technically still in my pants. Second, am I not allowed to have some fun too? I can do that without forgetting what we’re doing”. </p>
<p>Andrés just looks at him, one eyebrow cocked. Waiting.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Martín continues in a confident tone, “don’t worry about me, I’ll be ready in—“ he checks his watch “—shit”. The realization makes his blood run cold. He did forget. </p>
<p>“Fuck. I’m sorry, Andrés. Shit. I didn’t—” </p>
<p>“Shut up and come with me.”</p>
<p>Just before leaving the room, Andrés stops in front of Jared, who is still frozen in place, and snarls:</p>
<p>“Keep your hands off Martín, or I’ll break all of your fingers, one by one.”</p>
<p>Martín follows Andrés out of the room, not even daring to look in Jared’s direction, down the stairs and out the front door. He keeps muttering excuses every now and then, but Andrés just keeps walking until they get to their car. </p>
<p>Then he turns around and faces Martín, the anger still visible in his eyes. His glistening fangs make him look downright scary.</p>
<p>“We planned this together, remember?” A knot forms in Martín’s stomach when he realizes that behind all the visible signs of anger, Andrés is actually hurt. He wants to reach out to him, to take his hand, but he knows that now is not the time.</p>
<p>“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry, I—” Martín tries, but he is interrupted.</p>
<p>“If you don’t respect me, at least you should respect the plan.”</p>
<p>Martín swallows hard, his hands curling into fists. </p>
<p>“Of course I respect the plan. You know I do!” </p>
<p>He feels his throat burning. That Andrés actually thought he would ever disrespect the plan, disrespect him, on purpose, makes something hurt inside his chest. </p>
<p>“Just because some guy shows you the slightest interest, you don’t have to—”</p>
<p>Martín feels the whisky fuel his anger, and cuts Andrés off, voice slightly broken:</p>
<p>“How come you always find a mission where you’ll have to fuck some woman, while I am supposed to just wait around and <i>watch</i> while you—” he makes a face “—touch her. It’s not fucking fair. And why do you even care who I’m with, you didn’t have to threaten Jared! It’s none of your business who touches me, because you won’t—”</p>
<p>He forces his mouth shut, his feelings threatening to spill over, swallowing several times to make the lump in his throat go away.</p>
<p>Andrés exhales, looking almost defeated, and takes one step closer to him.</p>
<p>“Martín.”</p>
<p>His voice is calm, when he lifts Martín’s chin with one hand to look him in the eye. </p>
<p>“I got it.”</p>
<p>“You— what? You got what?” He lowers his shoulders, the anger replaced with confusion from the words, from the way Andrés looks at him, the soft expression in his eyes. </p>
<p>The corner of Andrés’ mouth curls up in a lopsided smile, only one of his fangs showing.</p>
<p>“I got the egg.”</p>
<p>“YOU—“ he pauses, then looks around nervously, continuing in a quieter voice: “—you got it, really?”</p>
<p>He smiles widely, and Andrés mirrors his expression. He nods. Martín hesitates for a second before he crashes against Andrés, hugging him tightly. Andrés wraps his arms around him too.</p>
<p>“Shit, I’m so proud of you.” </p>
<p>He really is. And he is relieved, too, that his selfishness didn’t fully ruin Andrés’ plan.</p>
<p>Andrés draws back a little to look him in the eye, his expression now a mix between euphoria and fondness. He places a hand on the side of Martín’s neck, his thumb running over his cheek. Martín catches him staring at his lips before looking up into his eyes. </p>
<p>“You really shouldn’t let other guys touch you, though.”</p>
<p>Martín frowns, confused.</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>Andrés sighs, as if he wishes he didn’t have to explain it. He tugs at Martín’s shirt, bringing him close again, and whispers in his ear:</p>
<p>“Because I want to be the only one touching you.”</p>
<p>His dark voice makes Martín’s breath hitch in his throat.</p>
<p>“What— what are you talking about?”</p>
<p>His own voice is barely audible.</p>
<p>He doesn’t receive an answer, at least not in the form of actual words, but two hands find their way under his shirt, making his eyes flutter shut. He still doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, but the closeness of Andrés and his hands against his skin makes it hard to really care. </p>
<p>When Andrés’ fangs scrape against his neck, he is surprised by the loud moan escaping his lips. His hands desperately grab the silky fabric of Andrés’ vest. Martín is embarrassed to find out how hard he already is, and the way Andrés’ fangs dig into his skin doesn’t help. He pulls back just enough to see Andrés’ face. None of them says anything, they just stare at each other, breathing hard. </p>
<p>Martín can feel the magnetic-like pull towards Andrés’ lips, but he resists it, not fully convinced that Andrés actually wants this. It doesn’t take long for Andrés to close the distance between them, eliciting a groan from Martín, when one of Andrés’ fangs pierces his lip.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Andrés mutters into the kiss, but Martín doesn’t care. If anything, the faint taste of blood and the sharp teeth against his lips and tongue turns him on even more.</p>
<p>He should be freezing, after all, it’s even colder outside than it was when they arrived here. But he doesn’t feel cold. His body is on fire. Even if he was freezing, he wouldn’t be aware of it because of the way Andrés’ fingers dig into his back, the way they slide down to rest on his ass, pressing their bodies together. The way one of Andrés’ legs presses between his, making him moan from the friction. </p>
<p>His hands want so desperately to feel all of Andrés’ body at the same time. But it doesn’t feel like the right place or time to start removing all of his clothes, and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment by asking if they should go somewhere else. The fear of rejection lingers in the back of his head.</p>
<p>He sneaks one hand in between their bodies in an attempt to slide it under Andrés’ shirt, but his damn costume is too tight, and Martín’s shaky hand is in no state to operate the buttons. Instead, he lets it travel down between Andrés’ legs, where he feels the heat and the contour of Andrés’ erection, trapped underneath the tight pants. The feeling alone makes a needy whimper escape his lips, the sound clearly amusing Andrés.</p>
<p>Andrés’ hands quickly work Martín’s pants open, and Martín sighs from relief. When he feels a hand around his erection, he eagerly leans into it, while starting to unbutton Andrés’ pants too. </p>
<p>Before he has any luck, Andrés turns him around so he faces the car. A moment later his boxers are pulled down and he finds himself bent over the hood of the car. <i>Oh</i>. </p>
<p>The feeling of the cold metal against his flushed skin sends shivers down his back. He hears rustling behind him, then the sound of a zipper, and the anticipation alone makes him hold his breath. Still, there is a warm hand on his lower back, caressing his skin. He notices because he isn’t used to actually being <i>cared for</i> during sex. </p>
<p>He feels utterly exposed with his pants down his ankles, the cool night air on his skin, and he is grateful for the cover provided from the darkness. Sure, he’s confident about his body, but something about this moment, about it being Andrés behind him, makes him strangely self-conscious. </p>
<p>He feels the caress before a slick finger enters him, making his hands twist against the surface of the car, nails scraping over the glossy varnish, desperate for something to hold on to. It takes him a moment to relax into the touch, until suddenly, another finger enters. Andrés’ cape brushes over his naked skin when he bends over him, places a hand between his shoulders and asks:</p>
<p>“Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Martín wants to laugh at the question, because <i>fuck</i>, this might be the most okay he’s been for a long time. </p>
<p>“I’m really good, thank you for asking,” he answers. “Now if you could just fuck—” </p>
<p>Andrés’ fingers curl inside him, before he gets to finish his sentence, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He lets out a loud cry, echoing in the woods. A smug laugh comes from Andrés, and suddenly the fingers are removed, leaving an empty sensation. </p>
<p>“Please,” he croaks out, way too desperate for his own liking. A mere second later Andrés’ firm hands are on his hips, and then, <i>finally</i>, he pushes inside him. Martín is desperate for it, but the burning sensation catches him off guard, making him hiss. </p>
<p>Andrés stills instantly and asks:</p>
<p>“You good?”</p>
<p>Martín exhales through his clenched teeth, trying to relax, which isn’t easy in his current position.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>He pushes back, urging Andrés to continue. He does, going really slow, apparently afraid of hurting Martín. While Martín appreciates the thought, he finds himself wanting, <i>needing</i>, more.</p>
<p>“Andrés, please, harder.”</p>
<p>The desperate tone of his voice makes him blush, almost ashamed of his own greed. Andrés doesn’t hesitate, though, and starts pounding into him, obviously needing it just as much. Martín’s arms slip on the hood of the car, from the sheer power of Andrés’ thrusts, his hands searching for something to hold on to. He ends up steadying himself on his elbows, leaning his forehead against the cold metal.</p>
<p>With every thrust, every time Andrés fully buries his cock inside him, he feels the fabric of Andrés’ pants against his own skin. He pictures the situation in his mind, a fully clothed Andrés fucking him senseless, and the image is almost enough to make him come. Andrés has picked up the pace, and Martín revels in the feeling of just being taken. That nothing is expected from him. Andrés’ fingers dig into his hips, and he’s already excited to see the bruises they will surely leave.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Andrés!” Martín cries out, when Andrés rearranges himself and hits a particularly good spot inside him. He feels the tremble all over his body. </p>
<p>Andrés shushes him from behind, but Martín is no longer able to control the sounds coming from his mouth. He is surprised to feel a hand on his mouth, a clear message that he should be quiet, and damn that just pushes him even closer to the edge. When Andrés wraps his fingers around his cock, giving it a few fast strokes, he bites down hard at the fingers that have slipped into his mouth, a shudder going through his body when his orgasm hits him. </p>
<p>He collapses on the hood of the car, and hears a strangled groan from behind him as Andrés buries himself inside Martín one last time, and stills. </p>
<p>After a moment Andrés withdraws himself, and Martín realizes how cold it really is. He scrambles to stand up, his body still trembling, an effect of the powerful orgasm and the freezing cold. <br/>He feels his pants being pulled up and buttoned, and he should be ashamed that he doesn’t muster to perform a simple task like that, but in reality he just feels— spent. Andrés keeps one arm around him and leads him to the car door, where he slumps down on his seat. </p>
<p>Just before Andrés sits down in the driver’s seat, he fetches something from his pocket. The Fabergé Egg.</p>
<p>“We should probably get out before someone realizes that it’s missing.”</p>
<p>Martín grins lazily and feels himself drift off as soon as the car starts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Martín.”</p>
<p>A hand gently shakes his shoulder to wake him when they arrive at the monastery. The nap seems to have worked wonders on his body, making him able to actually get out of the car all by himself. He is still exhausted, though, and during the walk up to the house he buries his hands in his pockets. He wants to say something, he wants to take Andrés’ hand. But he is unsure if the previous events allow him to do such things, or if it was simply just a quick fuck in the woods. The thought alone makes his cock twitch with interest. </p>
<p>Inside the house Andrés looks him up and down with a smug smile on his face:</p>
<p>“I really did wear you out. We should go to sleep.”</p>
<p>Martín nods, hands still in his pockets, and he starts walking towards his bedroom. He stops when Andrés wraps his fingers around his arm. The touch is timid, matching the look in Andrés’ eyes, when they meet his.</p>
<p>“I was thinking… my bed?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Martín blinks a couple of times, unable to find the words, but nods and follows Andrés to his bedroom. </p>
<p>If he wasn’t both tipsy and exhausted, he sure would have let the awkward feeling he has, when he suddenly finds himself standing next to Andrés’ bed, take over. But he’s way past the point of caring, when he gets rid of his clothes and gets under the covers. He watches Andrés undress — removing his fangs too — but before he gets in bed, he takes the Fabergé Egg and places it cautiously on his nightstand, running his fingers over the enamel surface.</p>
<p>They both lie on their backs for a while, staring into the dark. Martín feels the heat radiate from Andrés’ body, so close to his. He wants to be closer, but the thought of wrapping his arm around Andrés makes his heart beat faster from nervousness. Which is ridiculous, he knows, Andrés invited him to his bed after all.</p>
<p>Almost dozing off, he feels Andrés’ hand playing with his hair. </p>
<p>“Did you have fun tonight?” </p>
<p>Martín thinks for a moment.</p>
<p>“Do you mean at the party or in the parking lot?”</p>
<p>Andrés laughs and pulls Martín closer, burying his face in his hair. Martín’s head rests on Andrés’ shoulder, and he listens to his heartbeat, breathes in his scent.</p>
<p>He runs his fingers through the hairs on Andrés’ chest and wonders what this means for their relationship. He wants to ask if this is a one night thing, if Andrés liked it, if he wants to do it again. He doesn’t ask, though — he isn’t sure he’s ready to deal with the answers, and besides, he’s too tired to form actual sentences. </p>
<p>He decides that no matter what, he’s happy right here, right now, in Andrés’ bed, safe in his arms.</p>
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